In The Darkness
by Padawan Jess Kenobi
Summary: Trip and Malcolm get caught in a storm, and must find a way to protect each other against the planet’s dangers at all costs. A Trip and Malcolm friendship fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: In The Darkness

**Author**: Padawan Jess Kenobi

**Disclaimer**: Ahh if only Trip could be mine…

**Summary**: Trip and Malcolm get caught in a storm, and must find a way to protect each other against the planet's dangers at all costs. Pretty much a Trip and Malcolm friendship fic.

**Author's Notes**: I want to thank **cosmic writer**, **DinahD, volley, TheNaggingCube, Sita Z**, and **Emiliana Keladry** for your lovely reviews of my first ever Enterprise fan fic. You guys are sweet :)

This is my second time writing an Enterprise story, and as such, I might not have full grasp of the whole writing-an-actiony-sequence thing, as I usually write more character-orientated peices. But I thought I'd give it a try, hope you all enjoy it. :)

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"Shit, Malcolm, wake up," Trip whispered urgently, shaking his friend's shoulder roughly.

He could hear the howling of the creatures in the distance, getting closer with each passing minute. Night was falling quickly now, and with it, the temperature. The storm was getting worse, and the winds ripped through the air around them. Trip felt a violent shiver course through his body, and he fought to steady his trembling hands.

Trip tried the communicator again and resisted the urge to throw it into a tree when it sputtered lifelessly. The storm was interfering with the communicator's ability to function, though he couldn't figure out why.

"Come on, they're getting closer, and they sound like they want round two," Trip joked, though if Malcolm were awake he would have seen the worry lines on the Commander's face. There was still no response from the unconscious Tactical Officer, and Trip sighed in frustration.

"Lieutenant Reed! Wake up, that's an order!" Trip barked out severely, but it only elicited a quiet moan from the man. "Damn Brit," Trip muttered angrily.

The beasts howled again, and this time they were close enough that Trip could hear individual pitches among the group. He looked around hurriedly, searching for an escape nearby. All around him on three sides were treacherous rock walls, with narrow ledges and steep inclines, riddled with a few larger slabs of rocks that jutted out. The beasts that drew near couldn't possibly balance upon the thin ridges, so Trip knew that he had to get him and Malcolm up high enough on the wall to be safe until Malcolm regained consciousness. Trip thought back to the events that had occurred in the last ten minutes while he formulated a plan to get them both up the rocky wall.

Captain Jonathon Archer, T'Pol, Malcolm and himself had taken a shuttlepod down to the planet earlier that day to take some readings, and to collect samples. The sun had been shining brightly that afternoon, and if not for all T'Pol's constant warnings of being cautious, Trip would have sworn he was back in Florida. They had decided to split into two groups, and meet back at the shuttlepod in five hours, whether they had collected all the samples they needed or not. T'Pol had stressed, in her usual flat voice, the importance of being off the planet before nightfall, which was often riddled with storms and freezing temperatures.

T'Pol had also cautioned Trip and Malcolm about the huge indigenous creatures that resided on the planet. They were highly predatory, and very dangerous, but they only came out at night. Or so her sources had indicated her.

Trip and Malcolm had been taking samples and scanning the area when the storm started. It began as a chilly breeze, but then the wind started to whip the trees around, sending branches and leaves flying carelessly.

"Maybe we should head back," Malcolm had suggested, to which Trip nodded.

"The Cap'n won't be happy if we're late," Trip agreed. "I'll bet you T'Pol already made him go back to the shuttlepod," he added with a laugh.

The two men had been packing up their gear when Malcolm heard a rustling in the bushes in front of them. He froze, his hand instinctively going to the phase pistol at his hip.

"Did you hear that, Sir?" Malcolm asked tentatively, his sharp eyes surveying the area.

Trip looked up for a second and listened closely, then shook his head. "It's just the wind," he said dismissively, a split second before the bushes seemed to come alive and spring at them. Five wolf-like animals appeared suddenly, their massive, muscled bodies leaping through the air with astounding speed.

Malcolm, ever the alert Officer, had been able to shoot two of the beasts before a third had gotten past his phase pistol and bit him savagely in the arm. He had yelled in surprised pain and Trip had just managed to turn and shoot the beast off of Malcolm before it had been able to deliver a killing blow. The Armory Officer had looked his way with a faraway expression on his eyes, and then had keeled backwards, unconscious. The distraction had cost Trip his concentration or a split second, and one of the two creatures that were attacking him swiped at him with a giant paw the size of Trip's torso.

Trip had gone flying a few meters back, landing just short of being thrown into the rock wall behind them. He skidded against the ground and felt his ankle snap under the impact. He groaned at the shock of pain that traveled through his leg, but had turned around and shot the two remaining creatures in the neck before they could attack him or Malcolm again.

Trip had run over to Malcolm, his heart in his throat as he realized that his friend wasn't moving. He pulled out the medical kit he knew Malcolm always carried in his backpack, and threw various equipment out onto the rocky ground before he found the medical scanner he was looking for. He ran it over Malcolm's still body, finding nothing wrong with the man except for a strange substance in his blood stream. Trip had little medical experience, but considering that Malcolm seemed to be in a stable enough condition, he supposed the substance could be some sort of sedative secretion from the animal's teeth.

His worry had subsided as he realized that Malcolm was merely unconscious and didn't seem to be in any immediate danger. He had knelt by the British man's side for ten minutes trying to rouse him from his unconsciousness, but the Officer just wouldn't wake up, though his breathing and other vitals were perfectly normal.

"Always gotta makes things difficult, don't you Malcolm," Trip muttered under his breath, pushing away the memories as he returned to the present task.

He jabbed the darker-haired man's shoulder a few more times in an attempt to wake him, but it was to no avail. Trip leaned over and sat Malcolm up, and was discouraged when Malcolm's head lolled to the side languidly. With a grunt, Trip hauled the Security Officer up onto his feet, though Trip let out a string of curses as they both almost crashed to the ground again.

"This would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd help me out, you know," Trip said through gritted teeth, wincing as his ankle protested against his movements. His ankle was surely sprained at the very least, probably fractured, and his head throbbed mercilessly. The cold wasn't helping either as shivers ravaged his body relentlessly.

Trip eyed the steep wall warily, but decided he had no other choice. The beasts were merciless and predatory; there would be more of them, and they would track the two men down easily. And with Malcolm unconscious for who knows how much longer, Trip couldn't risk trying to run through the forest and back to the shuttlepod. He wondered how Captain Archer and T'Pol were doing, and hoped they were having better luck than him and Malcolm.

Trip quickly pulled some rope from the belt around his uniform, and tied it securely around Malcolm's chest a few times. He tugged on it to make sure the knots would hold, and then tied it to himself. For once Trip was glad for Malcolm's propensity for being prepared for anything, as the Tactical Officer had finally convinced him to bring rope along on their mission "just in case."

"Lucky guess," Trip mumbled to himself and his friend, even though he knew he couldn't hear him. He leaned down and grabbed Malcolm around the chest, heaving him up. This time the Commander was able grab Malcolm's legs before they gave out again, and he half-carried, half-dragged the man over to the rock wall.

Another pack of beasts howled collectively again, and Trip tried to block out the thought that the pack must be right behind them by now. The engineer put his foot on a ledge that jutted out and started to climb carefully. His injured ankle almost collapsed under his weight, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the pain aside. The rope that connected him and Malcolm was still limp, but as Trip hauled himself up to the next ledge, it became taut. Trip took a deep breath and slowly pulled himself up a few inches, praying that the rope would hold the Lieutenant's weight.

Trip exhaled in relief as Malcolm's lifeless body raised off of the rocky floor about three inches, but his relief was short lived as his arms began to tremble at the effort of carrying an extra man's weight. He breathed heavily at the exertion, but continued to climb as quickly as he could. He was convinced his ankle was going to give out any minute, but continued to press on. Despite his determination, he was still moving slowly, too slowly to reach a large ledge that jutted out a few meters ahead of him. He could hear and feel the approach of the beasts; they were almost here.

Trip looked down to check his progress, and to make sure that Malcolm was still tied securely. The knots seemed to be holding surprisingly well, and Trip turned his attention back to the task. He grunted in pain and exhaustion as he struggled to muscle his way to the next ledge. His fingers and hands were cut from the rough rock, and the blood was streaming down his arms. His injured ankle gave out for a second, and Trip slipped, sending dust and pebbles into Malcolm's face.

"Sorry," Trip muttered to his unconscious friend. Trip looked up at the broad ledge he was struggling to reach; it couldn't be more than a meter away. He should be able to reach it in less than a minute. He was about to reach for the next ledge when a loud growl behind him froze him to the spot.

Trip turned his head to see a pack of about eight of the huge beasts standing not twenty feet away from them. The creatures were huge and hideous; with matted brown fur stained with what Trip could only imagine was blood and dirt. They had three rows of razor-sharp teeth that they all bared in vicious growls. Trip looked down at his belt that held his phase pistol, but he couldn't reach it while he was still holding on to the ledge.

The leader of the pack walked towards him slowly, teasingly, the others following a few steps behind. Trip exhaled nervously, and looked down at Malcolm's body that dangled a few feet below him. If the beasts were to jump, they would be able to reach the unconscious man with their paws, probably even their teeth. Trip looked back up at the big ledge, and then back down to his friend.

He quickly moved sideways and up a little until he found a ledge large enough that he could place both feet on it and balance sufficiently well. Trip wriggled his feet as deep into the wall's rocks as he could until he felt amply confident in his balance, and grabbed the rope that ran from his belt to Malcolm's body. He leaned down slowly, praying that he wouldn't fall, or drop Malcolm, but his balance held. He quickly grabbed the rope in his hand and pulled up.

He felt his balance slip slightly and he instinctively grabbed onto the wall with one arm so as not to topple off of his perch. Despite the biting frost of the night, beads of sweat ran down Trip's face as he lifted Malcolm using only the strength of his arm. He was almost blinded by pain and fatigue, but he kept going until Malcolm was almost at the same level that he was. The howling wind threatened to rip him from the rocks and throw him like a leaf, but Trip held on tight.

Trip's concentration almost snapped when he heard the sound of the beast's claws scratching the rock wall. One of them had jumped up, but the two men were now just out of its reach. Trip could reach the broad outcropping of rock by stretching his arm up high. He held Malcolm securely next to him, and paused to catch his breath. The beasts underneath him stared up at them hungrily, and Trip could almost feel their hot breath on the back of his neck, even though they were below him.

Malcolm groaned and moved his head suddenly. Trip looked over at him, and felt a wave of relief wash over him as the man groaned again. His eyes were still closed, but it seemed as though he was coming out of unconsciousness slowly.

Trip felt the rock he had lodged his feet into become looser suddenly, and he looked down. One of the beasts was still jumping up in an attempt to reach the men, and as its huge paw came in contact with the rock wall, it swiped away a part of the ledge. Rocks tumbled down, and Trip hugged the ledge and Malcolm more securely to his body.

Malcolm groaned again, and this time his eyelids fluttered open slowly. He seemed disoriented and looked around him in confusion. "What… Commander?" he croaked as his eyes finally started to focus slowly.

"It's sure nice of you to join me, Malcolm" Trip muttered sarcastically.

"Where… where are we?" Malcolm asked groggily. "Why can't I move?"

"I'll explain it later, I'm a little busy right now," Trip growled. "I'm gonna get you up on that ledge and then we can talk, ok?" He untied the rope that bound him and Malcolm together, removing it from himself and draping it around Malcolm's shoulders.

Malcolm just groaned in response and struggled to open his eyes further. Trip used all the energy left in his body to painstakingly lift Malcolm up into his arms. "Can you move at all?" he asked, his voice thick with effort.

"Only my left arm a little bit," Malcolm responded, sounding a little more like his usual self, though he still clearly did now know where he was.

"I could use any help you can give me," Trip said as he cried out. His arms and legs trembled violently as he lifted Malcolm over his head sloppily, almost losing his equilibrium again.

Malcolm seemed to suddenly be aware that he was dangling precariously off of a rock wall, and his eyes widened suddenly. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, voice tinted with shock and fear.

"Shut up," Trip growled, "or I'm gonna drop you off this wall so you can go say hi to our little friends down there."

Malcolm couldn't get his neck muscles to work to lift his head, but he could see the beasts down below in his peripheral vision. They were growling and hissing as they clawed at the air in anger.

Trip took a few deep breaths and suddenly heaved Malcolm into the air with energy he didn't know he had. The Lieutenant was thrown onto the ledge, where he tottered close to the edge. "You might wanna use that left arm a bit right now," Trip suggested sardonically.

Malcolm groaned and moved his arm the furthest it could go. He grabbed weakly onto the edge of the rock and pulled himself an inch away from the edge. "Blasted body won't cooperate," Malcolm snarled in frustration at himself.

Trip hugged the ledge he stood on, panting so hard he couldn't see straight. His muscles ached, and his ankle was on fire, but he knew he had to get on that ledge. He took out his phase pistol and swiveled carefully to partially face the beasts below. He fired once, and one of the creatures fell to the ground with a horrifying yelp of pain.

"That's a warnin'," Trip shouted weakly at them as the beasts stopped for a moment as if confused. He reached up to grab hold of the ledge, but he slipped suddenly as the rock under his foot gave way. Trip fell a couple of feet down the wall before he was able to catch himself roughly. He cried out at the jolt of pain that ran through his shoulder, and the throbbing in his ankle.

" Trip!" Malcolm shouted, his slightly slurred words now sharp with worry. "Are you injured?"

Trip didn't even have a chance to respond before he felt a knife-like pain cutting into his chest, and then he was falling again, but this time he couldn't catch himself. He hit the ground hard, and felt the air leave his lungs immediately upon impact. His vision swam as he struggled to remain conscious, and everything around him was still blurry when a large dark mass appeared in front of his eyes. He fought to clear his vision, but even before he could see straight, he could feel the hot breath on his face, and hear the guttural growl of one of the beasts.

Trip slowly reached down towards his belt to grasp his phase pistol, trying to make his movement imperceptible to the animal. "Malcolm?" he gasped, hoping his friend could hear him. He wheezed for air painfully, guessing that he had a broken rib that was inhibiting easy breathing.

"Commander! Are you alright?"

"Um…. I've been better. How's that left arm coming along?" Trip asked, moving his mouth as little as possible. He stared the beast straight in its depthless black eyes, eyes that seemed to glint with its intentions.

"I can almost move it completely, Sir," Malcolm responded. "Where are you?"

"I could really use your help with a phase pistol right now," Trip implied testily, though he was attempting to keep his voice stable so as not to incite the animal that hovered over him.

"Sir?" Came Malcolm's confused answer, from far above.

"I'm about to get eaten, Malcolm, you think you could help me out?" Trip shouted up, just as the beast reared opened its great mouth, revealing its rows of huge, sharp teeth. It seemed to grin at him for a moment before it jerked its head downwards, its movements lightening fast.

Trip rolled over instinctively, and he could feel the brush of fur against his back as the creature's mouth narrowly missed his body. He cried out in pain as his body bore the brunt of his quick movement, he Trip knew now was no time to take inventory of his injuries. He reached for his phase pistol and shot the beast in the leg twice. It went down with a loud howl, its black eyes searching in confusion. The other creatures seemed to pause for a moment and then sprang forward in unison.

"Now, Malcolm!" Trip shouted, just as Malcolm's face appeared on the ledge above him. His head lay against the rocky outcrop and his body still seemed uncooperative. A light sheen of sweat shone on his face, and he shakily held his weapon in his extended left arm.

Malcolm quickly shot one of the approaching creatures, sending it sprawling onto the ground. His aim was a little off due to his poor position and obstructed vision, but he managed to drop two more in less than twenty seconds. Trip got out his weapon as he stumbled to his feet only to sway dizzily, sending his shot careening past the hoard of beasts. His next shot was more precise, leaving only three more of the monstrous creatures to deal with. Malcolm finished them off for him, but not before one of the beasts managed to get close enough to Trip to swipe at him. Trip dodged the blow, but the claws still tore at his clothing, reducing the front of his shirt to bloody tatters as the nails ripped deep wounds into his chest. The beast dropped dead from Malcolm's shot a moment later, its huge body heaving once last shuddering breath.

Trip allowed himself to collapse onto the ground as he gasped for breath. The monsters were either dead or injured; the hurt ones running back to the forest, yelping loudly.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Malcolm yelled down, his voice laden with concern for his superior and friend.

Trip shut his eyes and leaned back on his elbows to try to dispel the pounding in his head and body. "Just feelin' like I'm missin' a few vital organs," he called back as he tried to suck in air.

"There may be more packs of those beasts, you need to get to safety," Malcolm said, his gray eyes scanning the distance.

"I'm workin' on it," Trip said back, though the painful constriction of his lungs caused his words to come out weak.

"Stay right there, I'm going to come down and get you, Commander," Malcolm said as he started to shift slightly towards the edge.

"With what, your arm?" Trip called back sarcastically, forcing his eyes open to look at his friend. Besides the fact that Malcolm could now lift his head a few inches off of the rocky surface, he clearly had no more mobility over his body than he did earlier.

Malcolm lay silently for a minute, racking his brain for an answer. "Can you get up?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," Trip responded, shaking his head to try to dispel the blurriness.

Malcolm's typical paranoia and worry was completely functional despite the immobility of the rest of his body. He knew that he had to get Trip up to that ledge as soon as possible, and that time was not a luxury they had at the moment. He could see that his Commander was injured and bleeding heavily, and he had to be tended to at once.

"I'd strongly suggest you move now, Mr. Tucker, I need to treat your wounds immediately. If those animals' teeth produce a sort of sedative and temporary-paralysis-inducing secretion, there is no telling if its claws have a similar, or worse, attack mechanism. We need to find a way to get you up here," Malcolm said, his eyes roaming over his surroundings as he wracked his brain for a way to get Trip up safely.

Trip moaned softly, but knew that the Lieutenant was right. "I guess you're feelin' better," he said as he pushed himself into a sitting position, and took as deep a breath as he could manage. "Don't expect to hear this often, but you were right," he called up weakly.

"About what?" Malcolm asked, knowing immediately that Trip was trying to distract himself from the pain by talking.

"Bringin' that rope wasn't a half-bad idea."

Despite the circumstances, Malcolm smiled. "Are you implying that my cautionary methods aren't always 'ridiculously unnecessary' as you've been prone to calling them?"

"Don't get too excited, Malcolm, I didn't say that. But I might just take to carryin' rope with me on away missions from now on," Trip joked as he hauled himself to his feet roughly.

Malcolm laughed softly, though it died on his lips a moment later as he saw Trip stagger a few feet, where he luckily managed to catch himself on the rock wall. He leaned against it, panting wildly, his face white with exertion. He suddenly noticed the drop in temperature, and the way his teeth were chattering loudly. The winds were rougher now, and they threatened to push him over in his weakened state.

"I'm assumin' the communicator still doesn't work, right?" Trip asked, though he already knew the answer. It didn't work before when the storm was just getting started, so it probably wouldn't work now.

Malcolm knew it wouldn't work either, but he tried it anyways, for Trip's sake. He struggled to move his only working limb at the moment to grab his comm., and attempted to contact the Captain, T'Pol, and Enterprise. He could reach none of them.

"Any luck?" Trip asked, though his voice didn't hold much hope.

"I'm afraid not, Commander," Malcolm answered.

"Damn," Trip swore, "I sure hope the Cap'n and T'Pol are having better luck than us, and they managed to find shelter, or get back to the pod."

"T'Pol surely would have been extra-cautious in allowing plenty of time for them to reach the pod before the storm started. She's good at that sort of thing, you know," Malcolm replied as he unwound the rope slowly from where it was tangled around his body.

"That's true, she's a stickler for what's logical," Trip replied with a pained grin as he cautiously extended his leg to see how much weight it could hold. "We weren't doin' so bad ourselves until we got attacked by those damn animals."

"I should have seen them coming, Commander, I'm sorry," Malcolm apologized grimly, thinking that Trip was holding him responsible for what happened.

"I got my own eyes, Malcolm, I didn't see them either," Trip said bluntly, looking up at his friend.

Malcolm had managed to disentangle himself from the rope, and glanced around him in an effort to find a rock that jutted out high enough that he could swing the rope around it. He lifted his head to search the area better, and then let out an excited cry.

"What's the matter, you ok?" Trip shouted up immediately, his blue eyes tinged with concern.

"I can move my head!" Malcolm said eagerly, his voice uncharacteristically high. He swiveled his head a few times to discover that he had regained complete mobility of his neck muscles again.

"That's lovely, really," Trip said, rolling his eyes. "Can you move any slightly more useful limbs? Like, I don't know, another arm or a leg or somethin'?"

Malcolm concentrated hard and attempted to move his body again, finding that only two fingers on his right arm would cooperate additionally. "Only my right thumb and pointer finger," he answered dimly, his elation dissipating.

"We must be the two unluckiest bastards in the universe," Trip said with a grimace as he lifted an arm and grabbed onto a ledge wearily, his bloodied hand stinging against the dust of the rocks. He went to lift his left arm and cried out at the unexpected pain. He let out a string of curses under his breath as he cradled his injured arm to his chest.

"What's the matter down there?" Malcolm asked, his head poking over the side again. He had managed to tie the rope he had brought to Trip's rope, doubling its length. He had then looped the connected ropes around a large rock and lowered one side until it reached the ground at Trip's feet.

"Nothin', I'm fine," Trip said dismissively, though it was far from the truth. He looked at the rope, and then up at Malcolm. "How am I supposed to climb this if it's not attached to anythin'?" he asked.

"I've wrapped it around a rock, it's quite secure, I assure you," Malcolm answered matter-of-factly. "It will act as a sort of pulley system, allowing me to draw you up with more ease."

Trip laughed, though it turned into a wheeze a moment later that left him gasping for breath. The wind whipped at his face, its icy touch so cold that it seemed to cut his skin. "And how do you intend to pull me up with one operational arm, Malcolm?" Malcolm opened his mouth to answer, but Trip cut him off before he could. "Of course, I forgot about the two fingers and the neck, too- those should really do it," he said sarcastically.

"Cynicism doesn't become you, Commander," Malcolm answered calmly, for once not allowing Trip's words to bait him. "Besides, isn't it you who always says that nothing is impossible unless you start to think it is?"

Trip grinned up at his friend, and despite the freezing cold, there was warmth in his eyes. "So you do listen to me sometimes, don't you?"

"Don't get too excited, Mr. Tucker, I didn't say that," Malcolm responded cheekily, repeating what Trip had said to him ten minutes ago.

Trip grinned again, the crooked smile giving him an endearing look. He nodded, licked his lip, and raised his eyebrows in acceptance. "Alright, let's give this thing a try, then," he said, grabbing onto the rope with his uninjured arm. He took a deep, painful breath, and lifted his injured arm to grab the rope also, biting back a cry of pain. He limped as close to the wall as he could get, and placed one foot on an outcropping, and supported his weight.

Malcolm nodded, and wordlessly grabbed the rope tightly in his hand. He pulled it as tight as it could go, and focused on keeping it taut. Trip looked up and sighed, letting the air out slowly through his nose. He tugged on the rope doubtfully to make sure that Malcolm could hold him. The man looked down at him, and Trip was surprised to see a trace of disappointment in his steely gray eyes.

"You have to trust me," Malcolm said seriously. His dark hair was matted to his forehead with perspiration and he looked exhausted, but there was a determination in his face that was unmistakable.

"I was just testing the rope," Trip answered back as cheerfully as he could, but then his voice became serious. "I do trust you, Malcolm, completely."

Malcolm nodded and said nothing, but his eyes perceivably softened.

"Ok, so on three I'm gonna push up with my legs, and you're gonna pull at the same time. But since you only got one arm, I'm then gonna grab a hold of the ledge so you can reposition yourself and pull again. Sound good?" Trip said, waiting for Malcolm's nod of approval. "Ok then, one… two… three!" On three Trip pushed up with his uninjured leg and was held up only by the rope for a few seconds.

Malcolm was almost dragged forward and off the edge at the sudden weight, but he fought it determinedly, using only the muscle of his arm to keep Trip suspended in the air. The rope cut against the rock it was wrapped around, but Malcolm knew it would hold.

"Ok, I've got the wall, you can let go," Trip called from down below, and Malcolm was only too happy to comply. He panted from the exertion, but immediately grabbed hold of the rope again, pulling the limp rope until it was taut again.

"Ready?" Malcolm called down, his inquiry met by a wearied 'yes.' Malcolm counted to three out loud and then pulled back with all his might, his forearm muscles burning with protest.

Trip's own body seemed past the point of exhaustion, but he would not give up. As Malcolm held the rope tightly, he yelled up for him to hold it a few seconds longer than planned. Trip painfully pulled himself up about a meter, biting his lip so hard that it drew blood so as not to cry out. He then found a place where he could hug the rock wall again, and did so gratefully. "Ok!" he called up, and heard Malcolm's gasp as he released the rope.

The two men continued in this way for what seemed like hours, though in reality it couldn't have taken longer than twenty minutes. Malcolm pushed through his exhaustion as he heaved one more time, and when he saw Trip's face grinning wearily back at him from over the ledge, he thought it must be a fabrication brought on by pure exhaustion.

"Don't just stare at me," Trip grunted as he held on to the ledge and struggled to pull himself over it.

Malcolm immediately dropped the rope and reached over with his good arm, grabbing Trip's hand. He pulled with all the strength remaining in him, and the Commander was just about over the edge when he slipped suddenly, and seemed to fall in slow motion.

"No!" Malcolm shouted, and shot his arms down to catch his friend and pull him back up.

Trip stared at him in disbelief, and then his gaze fell to Malcolm's arms, both of them, that were still on his shoulders. "You couldn't have used your other arm earlier?" he gasped, scrambling weakly onto the broad ledge that Malcolm was laying on.

Malcolm looked equally shocked as his bent his right arm, surprised that it was working again. "Believe me that if it had been functional earlier, I most certainly would have used it," he answered, too tired to even try to sound frustrated.

Trip nodded and closed his eyes, trying to get his wheezing breaths under control. Every intake of air felt like a knife being driven into his chest, but he fought to control the pain. He opened his eyes again, and saw that Malcolm was still laying on his side, too weak to even attempt to right himself into a sitting position.

Trip leaned over, ignoring the screams of protest from every muscle and injury in his body, and grabbed his friend around the shoulder. He pushed at Malcolm until the man's back was leaning against the rock wall, and his legs were splayed out, useless for the moment until he regained their function.

"Thanks, my neck was starting to hurt from lying in that position," Malcolm said, though his words were interspersed with gasps. He reached over into an emergency kit he always brought with him in his small backpack and drew out a small medical scanner. He hovered it over Trip's body, moving it up and down slowly, his eyes glued to the readings the scanner was giving him.

"Damage report?" Trip asked, sounding almost like he was inquiring about the state of a banged up shuttlepod instead of his own body.

"Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder along with some damaged tendons, fractured ankle, and deep slash wounds to the torso area," Malcolm responded grimly.

"Nothin' Doctor Phlox can't fix," Trip responded, sounding more cheery than he actually felt.

"Now let me get a look at those claw marks, I'm going to need to clean and bandage your wounds." Malcolm put the scanner down and put the medical kit into his lap as he looked around for what he needed.

Trip shook his head wearily, reaching up with a trembling arm to stop Malcolm. "You're exhausted Malcolm, rest for a few minutes and then we can think about that."

Malcolm shook his head stubbornly, "I need to treat those right away; there is no knowing if those creatures have some sort of toxins in their nails that could affect you-"

"In a few minutes, Malcolm," Trip repeated, pinning his subordinate down with a glare.

"But-"

"Don't make me order you to stay put like a puppy, Lieutenant," Trip commanded, stressing Malcolm's rank in an icy voice that held no room for argument.

Malcolm stared at him, his mouth gaped open. "Fine, have it your way, Commander. But if you die in the next few minutes, I won't feel one bit responsible," Malcolm retorted, locking the blonde man with his own steely look.

Trip burst out into a sudden lopsided grin, and arched an eyebrow. "Understood," he answered, shooting Malcolm an amused look. Upon receiving nothing back but the harsh stare, Trip sighed. "I appreciate your concern, don't think that I don't, but if I haven't died yet, I probably won't in the next few minutes. Catch your breath, and then we can worry about these scratches."

Malcolm gave him a look that clearly implied his disagreement, but his eyes were no longer steely. He leaned his head back against the rock and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest. He rubbed his sore and burning left arm, trying to massage some of the pain away.

**Part II is already almost finished, but I have to fine-tune a few things before I can post it. Reviews are, as always, appreciated beyond belief :)**


	2. Chapter 2 Final Part

**Part II! Again, a loving thank you to DinahD, volley, Emiliana Keladra, and Mary. Reviews like yours makes the hours spent agonizing over word choice worth it :)**

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Trip leaned his own head against the wall once he saw his friend do so, and reflected on the injuries Malcolm had said he'd sustained. Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractured ankle, and pretty deep claw wounds. In light of things, it definitely could have been worse, Trip thought to himself optimistically, his reaction dampened by a violent shiver that wracked his exhausted body. It must have been close to the tenth hour, though the moon shone almost as bright as a lighthouse beacon upon the land.

Malcolm opened an eye and looked at Trip, who was still slumped against the wall. A guilty expression crossed Malcolm's face as he surveyed the other man's injuries, and it made Malcolm want to bash his own head against the wall behind him. After the creature had bit him he had felt a dizzying pain, and then had clearly lost consciousness for an indeterminable amount of time. When he had finally woken up, he'd been surprised- to say the least- when he learned that he was dangling off of a great cliff wall, over a large pack of ravenous beasts. Trip had been holding him against the cliff, and even in his numb state, Malcolm had been able to feel the great strain running through Trip's body. Trip had then done the impossible, and had lifted Malcolm over his head, all but throwing him onto that ledge, and into safety.

Malcolm remembered the way he had looked over the edge of the rock, unable to move anything but his left arm. He had seen Trip grasp another rock and then suddenly he had slipped. The man had seemed to fall so slowly, and Malcolm's heart had stopped in his chest. He was sure that Trip had been-

Malcolm shook his head harshly to dissipate the thoughts, but it did nothing for the shame he felt. Trip had almost died because of him, because he was so damn selfless in trying to save him first. Malcolm reached out and gently shook the Commander's good shoulder, bringing him out of his dazed thoughts. "With all due respect, it's been a few minutes," Malcolm said quietly as he reached for the emergency kit and his flask of water.

Trip nodded and looked down at him, and the disarray that was his shirt. "I must look a bloody mess," he said, mocking Malcolm's pleasant British accent teasingly.

Malcolm didn't smile as he looked over his friend's injuries sadly, and with guilt. "You look terrible," he muttered, his voice full of self-loathing as he opened his flask of water.

"Hey now," Trip said indignantly, "that's just not true. Commander Charles Tucker III _always _looks good," he joked, flashing Malcolm a cocky grin.

But Malcolm's face was still serious despite Trip's jesting. He silently moved the bloodied tatters of Trip's shirt out of the way, and poured water on the slash wounds. Trip's face went pale, and he drew in a sharp intake of breath, half from pain, and half from the shock of the icy air hitting the water. Malcolm took out a piece of cloth and began to dab Trip's wounds as gently as possible, cleaning the blood out.

Trip watched Malcolm's impassive face as he worked automatically, doing a thorough job of cleaning the cuts. Trip furrowed his eyebrows in frustration as he broke the silence. "Please tell me you're not feelin' responsible for some ridiculous reason," he said, clearly annoyed.

Malcolm said nothing, but continued to work, keeping his eyes downcast. He started to wrap the wounds as best he could, but the contents of his medical kit were limited. He was about to bandage another cut when Trip's hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed his arm roughly.

Malcolm lifted his head in surprise, his eyes meeting Trip's furious glance. "Answer me," he growled.

Malcolm let out of a hollow, humorless laugh as he wrenched his arm out of Trip's grasp. "You almost died because of me," he spat, self-hatred in his voice. "You risked your life to get me to safety and then you fell and there was nothing I could do about. I was so damn useless up there, safe on this ledge while you were down there, injured and alone."

Trip was momentarily taken aback by his friend's painful honesty, and the hurt in his voice. "That's not true, Malcolm," he said softly after a moment of tense silence.

"It is, and you know it-" Malcolm started, before Trip cut him off sharply.

"Would you let me finish?" Trip shouted, cutting him off impatiently. "You shot those beasts off me, remember? You were there for me, though you managed to incite a period of suspense by waiting a couple seconds before you shot them, but I can forgive you for that," he said lightly, trying to cheer his friend up. Malcolm's expression didn't change the slightest though, and he still looked miserable.

"Look," Trip began again, his tone serious. "If you want me to be honest, I didn't have a moment's doubt that you would shoot those creatures before they got to me. I know you, Malcolm, and I knew you'd be there. There's nothin' useless about you, never has been. Hell, you practically lifted me up that wall single-handedly, no pun intended," he said with a small smile.

Malcolm felt some of his tension leave him, but he was still doubtful. "But you put yourself at risk to save me. I'm the ship's Security Officer, I should be the one keeping you safe, and-"

"Shut up," Trip groaned, rolling his eyes. "If you have any sense of duty, you should be savin' me from your incessant need to apologize and take the blame for things that aren't your fault. If I thought you were to blame, you know I sure as hell would tell you," Trip said frankly.

Malcolm knew that was true, his friend usually was bluntly honest about most things. He didn't know what to say, but allowed a small smile to grace his lips before he continued to bandage the rest of Trip's wounds. The two friends passed the time in silence, each battling with their own pain and injuries, but neither complaining.

Trip's teeth chattered together loudly again as another violent shiver coursed through his body, but this time it didn't seem to stop. The shudders aggravated his wounds, and caused him to groan softly in agony. Malcolm was instantly digging into his small bag, and managed to pull out a decently sized blanket. He draped it over Trip's body, and watched to make sure that the Commander's cold spasms subsided. Trip gratefully started to tuck himself in, but then stopped to raise an eyebrow at Malcolm.

"I can't take this if you're just gonna be sittin' there in the cold," he said, starting to take the blanket off of him.

"That's very chivalrous of you, Sir, but that's not necessary," Malcolm quipped, as he reached into the backpack again and pulled out a second blanket, which he placed on himself.

Trip's mouth dropped open comically, and he eyed the small backpack curiously. "How the hell did you fit all this in there? Better question, why do you have two blankets?"

"Did you bring one?" Malcolm asked rhetorically, already anticipating Trip's negative answer. "It seems my paranoia has once again served you well," he said, using his arms to push himself into a more comfortable position.

"Can't argue that one," Trip agreed, burrowing himself deeper into the blanket's warmth. He was still cold, but he no longer felt as though he was going to turn into a human icicle at any given moment.

"How are those injuries doing, Commander?" Malcolm asked after a couple minutes of content silence.

"Well, the good news is that all my limbs all still attached to my body."

"The bad news?" Malcolm asked, tilting his head to look at his friend.

"The bad news is that they would hurt a lot less if they weren't," Trip answered wryly.

"I wish I could give you a shot for the pain, but I don't want you to get drowsy. Neither of us should fall asleep in this cold, there's a distinct possibility of catching hypothermia and then never waking up," Malcolm said, in his usual clipped tone of voice.

"That'd be mighty unfortunate," Trip agreed.

The two men passed a few minutes more minutes of silence, each man trying to gain control over their own injuries and pains.

"Can I ask you a question?" Trip said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

"Sure, Commander," Malcolm responded, though there was clearly an edge of reserve in his voice.

"You're aware that my friends all call me Trip, right?"

"I'm aware," Malcolm responded in confusion, unsure of where this was going.

"And you are aware that you're allowed to call me that as well, right?" Trip said slowly, as though speaking to a dog.

Malcolm paused for a moment in thought. "I suppose,"

"So why don't you?"

"I presume it's because I was always taught to address my superiors by their rank, not by their names. I would never have called a man who outranks me by anything but his title, even if I respected him greatly-"

"You respect me?" Trip interceded with a mischievous grin.

"I didn't say that directly," Malcolm sputtered, clearly embarrassed by what he had said and trying to find the least possible pride-reducing way out.

"You respect me!" Trip said again, thoroughly enjoying teasing his friend, who was now a deep shade of red not caused only by the cold.

"I- shut up." Malcolm stammered ungracefully. "I don't think you're completely incompetent," he admitted quietly after a few seconds of looking into Trip's grinning face.

"Well!" Trip exclaimed, leaning his head back against the rock wall. "Coming from you, that's good enough for me," he said with a small laugh, followed by a wince at the shot of pain throughout his body.

"Besides, how do you get _Trip_ from _Charles _anyways? If you ask me, it's a bit ridiculous, and not at all logical," Malcolm said, attempting to divert the conversation away from his embarrassing vocal admission that he found Trip to be a very good Officer.

"You're soundin' like T'Pol with a British accent, and it's a little frightenin'," Trip responded cheekily, giving his friend a pointed look.

Malcolm was about to retort when a howling sound cut the night air, so close that both men jumped a little. Malcolm peered over the edge of the outcropping of rock and down to the ground below. Six pairs of eyes stared back icily at him in the night, and Malcolm drew his phase pistol reflexively.

"Ah, let 'em be," Trip drawled. "They can't hurt us from way down there. Poor bastards are just hungry."

Malcolm arched an eyebrow and regarded his friend with an almost incredulous look. "You almost became their dinner earlier, and if I'm not mistaken, I'm sensing sympathy in your voice?"

"Empathy, Malcolm," Trip stressed, his blue eyes bright in the moonlight. "It's different. They don't have Chef to prepare them a synthesized meal whenever they're hungry, they gotta make do somehow," he said wisely.

"You're quite the character, Mr. Tucker," Malcolm responded, but he had to agree, and put his weapon away.

"Besides, look at us!" Trip exclaimed a moment later, gesturing under his blanket. "We're Senior Officers on one of the most prestigious Starfleets ever to roam the galaxy… of course we look delicious!"

Malcolm found himself laughing uproariously at the ridiculousness of Trip's statement, and even though his chortles aggravated his aches and pains, if felt good just to laugh. When he was finally able to control the mirth he leaned back again, and drew his legs closer to him without thinking. He rested his head on his knees and sat there for a couple seconds before the realization of what he just did hit him. His face broke out into a smile as he bent and unbent his legs experimentally. He got to his feet, ignoring the sharp pangs of pain throughout his body and the overwhelming tiredness, and took a few happy steps.

Trip felt the movement and looked over at him. "Would you look at that," he said, watching his friend. "Baby's first steps," he said with a laugh.

Malcolm just chuckled good-naturedly as he lowered himself gingerly to the ground, placing the blanket over his body happily.

Trip pulled the cover over himself even higher so all that stuck out into the cold night air was his head, the stormy wind ruffling his hair in every direction and tinting his cheeks red. He closed his eyes again in an attempt to stave off the dizzy spell that came over him suddenly. The bandages around his chest seemed to get tighter with each breath he took, constricting his lungs until he felt like he was drowning. Trip fought the sensation, knowing it was just all in his head, and he could beat it.

"I don't suppose you've got any food in that magical backpack of yours, do you? I'm starved," Trip said, his voice hazy in his effort to control the pain.

Malcolm thought for a second and then rummaged in the backpack, pushing aside various objects until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a portion of something long and brown that looked rather unappealing, and held it out to Trip.

Trip scrutinized it with a disgusted look on his handsome face. "What in the hell is that?" he asked, not bothering to hide his revulsion.

"Emergency rations," Malcolm answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I understand that, but what _is_ it, "Trip asked impatiently.

"I'm actually not quite sure," Malcolm replied honestly, tearing the long brown bar in half. "But if you'd rather, I'm sure that your friends down there could help you hunt for something a bit more exotic," he said sarcastically, taking a bite of his half of the food.

Trip peered over the edge and saw the same six pairs of eyes that had looked up at Malcolm earlier now staring steadily back at him. Trip straightened slowly and looked over at Malcolm again, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'd ask 'em, but they don't look like the sharin' type," he said, taking the food from Malcolm's hand and taking a bite. "You know," he said thoughtfully after swallowing, "minus the injuries, the freezin' cold, the lack of a fire, marshmallows or a tent, and disregardin' the brush with death earlier, this is kinda like campin'."

Malcolm shot him a look that clearly communicated his disagreement as he rubbed his hands together underneath the blanket to keep himself warm. "Is that so? He asked noncommittally, watching as his breath came out in a white puff, and then disappeared.

"Well, sure!" Trip exclaimed cheerfully. "All you really need is a good buddy, and a clear view of the sky," he said, lifting his gaze to the stars above.

"Have you always been this irrepressibly optimistic in dire situations, Mr. Tucker?" Malcolm asked, though he felt a smile tug at his lips.

"_When it is darkest, you can see the stars," _Trip intoned solemnly, his eyes tracing the various constellations and clusters above them.

"Ralph Waldo Emerson?" Malcolm asked, unable to conceal the amazement in his voice. "You know of him?"

"I guess all the Superman comic books were checked out of the library that day," Trip shot back sarcastically, teasingly referring to a comment Malcolm made some time ago about Trip probably only having read comic books and no real works of literature.

"Touché'," Malcolm replied as he raised his hands in surrender and laughed.

Trip grinned back, and drummed his fingers against his good knee. He leaned back and closed his eyes, as with another bout of dizziness washed over him, along with a sudden wave of exhaustion. The howling of the wind and the savageness of the storm should have deterred him from thoughts of sleep, but for some strange reason he found the wildness of the weather to be almost comforting at the moment. Even the biting cold seemed to be a strange invitation of slumber. He yawned, though the immense intake of breath hurt his ribs, and shifted under the blanket slightly.

Malcolm, attentive and observant as always, caught Trip's yawn immediately. "You should get a few hours of sleep before morning, Sir," he suggested.

Trip forced his eyes open and looked at his subordinate. Malcolm's eyes had dark circles under them, and the man looked exhausted, but Trip knew he was far too proud to ever admit it. Trip reluctantly straightened again as gently as possible, and fixed what he hoped was an awake and alert look on his friend.

"I thought I was goin' to die of hypothermia if I fell asleep?" Trip jested pleasantly.

"Well if you start to look like you're about to become deceased, I'll consider waking you up," Malcolm said sardonically, his efforts at appearing serious failing.

"Now there's a faithful Officer," Trip joked, an amused look on his face. "But I'm not really tired, why don't you get some sleep instead? And then I can be the one considerin' whether to wake you up or not, if I feel like it."

"You're exhausted, Commander," Malcolm pointed out.

"As are you, Malcolm, you don't hide it as well as you think you do," Trip said, just as sharply.

"I still recommend that you sleep a little, you might look a little less banged up for when we have to see the Captain tomorrow."

Trip grimaced at the thought, and ran a hand through his hair, though he immediately brought the hand back under the warmth of the blanket a few seconds later. "I can't say I'm lookin' forward to the chewin' out he's gonna give us," Trip said with a sigh.

"I doubt he'll put us together for away missions again anytime soon," Malcolm agreed lightly, though he was genuinely a little concerned about what Archer's reaction was going to be. He didn't want to be a concern or liability for the Captain, and he surely did not want Archer to believe that he was incapable or under qualified for any missions.

"We sure do seem to get in a lot of trouble," Trip said with a laugh. "But c'mon, despite the injuries, the potential hypothermia, the grief we cause the Cap'n, and the fact that we can't go anywhere without somethin' goin' wrong, we're damn good at keepin' things interestin'."

"That's a good way of putting it, Sir, though I doubt the Captain will see things your way," Malcolm responded.

"Probably not, but he does have to admit that we make a good team," Trip replied good-naturedly. "The Cap'n believes that I'm reckless and don't think things through sufficiently, and he thinks you're overcautious enough for two people. Put us together and you get an almost perfectly balanced Officer!"

Malcolm laughed his quiet chuckle and shook his head. "You're right about that one, Trip," he said, "and I think the Captain might subconsciously know it, though he wouldn't want to admit that."

"I wasn't goin' to point it out 'cause I didn't want to make you self-conscious or anythin', but you just actually called me by my name," Trip said, self-satisfaction in his voice.

Malcolm paused a bit, and re-played his own comment in his head. "I suppose I did," he said slowly and a little awkwardly. It didn't feel like the breach of protocol that he would have expected, instead it felt normal, as if he had just simply addressed a friend instead of a superior officer.

"See Malcolm, you're good at blowin' shit up, and I'm good at winnin' people over," Trip said in a jokingly cocky tone of voice.

"It appears that way," Malcolm said simply, but he knew it was true. Trip was the person he felt closest to on the ship, though he never would have guessed that would happen. They had strikingly opposite personalities most of the times, and their opinions usually clashed, causing them to argue often. And yet for some reason Malcolm couldn't fathom, they were great friends.

Trip seemed to know what he was thinking, and he smiled knowingly. The two friends spent the rest of the early morning hours in alternating moments of comfortable silence, arguments, and jokes.

When the storm finally let up and the sun broke through, it shone with the intensity of a summer's day. The two men looked up to a sapphire sky brimming with birds and other indigenous creatures that sparkled with colors plucked directly from a rainbow.

And when Trip's communicator buzzed to life, and Jonathon Archer's voice crackled on the other side, Trip could barely contain a smile even though the Captain sounded worried and irate. Malcolm, on the other hand, snapped to attention as surely as if Archer had suddenly appeared next to him.

"Trip, are you and Malcolm all right?" Archer asked, sounding for all in the world like an exasperated and concerned father.

"We're fine, Cap'n," Trip answered, looking down at the injuries he and Malcolm had sustained.

"That means we're bringing a medical team on the shuttlepod," Archer answered, and Malcolm could hear a bit of humor creeping into his voice now that he was assured that they were generally in one piece.

"You know us too well, Cap'n," Trip responded, too cheeky to even try to sound sheepish.

"You're going to have to deal with T'Pol's version of an "I-told-you-so" speech upon coming back to Enterprise, and my own as well," Archer said. Though he was serious and still rather angry because he had worried all night about his two Officers, he couldn't help smiling a little.

"Wouldn't miss it," Trip said with a smirk, rolling his eyes at Malcolm. "Oh and you might want to bring some climbin' gear when you come get us, by the way" Trip added suddenly, if a bit vague.

Archer paused on the other line, and the two Officers could hear him sigh. Trip could just imagine Archer closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "We've locked on to your location; we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Understood," Trip responded.

Trip turned the communicator off, and looked over the ledge where the beasts had stayed. They were gone, having retreated to shelter where they would most likely rest for the day until they came out at night again.

"Even the beasts don't want to be around when the Cap'n chews us out," Trip said with a snort.

"Smart," Malcolm agreed as he started to pack the blankets and medical kit back into his tiny backpack.

"If it'll make you feel better for gettin' into trouble with the Cap'n, I can tell him that you're an exceptionally well-prepared Boy Scout," Trip teased.

Malcolm shot him a glare, and would have playfully swatted his friend in the shoulder if not for the man's injuries. "Come on," Malcolm said, putting the backpack down, "let me at least help you stand up. It will buy us a few seconds of time before the Captain kills you for getting yourself injured on a simple away mission." Malcolm leaned down and placed Trip's good arm over his shoulder.

"You didn't do much better, you know," Trip bantered, biting his lip hard as Malcolm gently helped him onto his feet. "You managed to get yourself temporarily paralyzed, and knocked unconscious, you know." He swayed on his good foot dizzily, but he smiled.

"I had a pretty good track record of avoiding trouble before meeting you," Malcolm said, steadying Trip carefully.

"Ah, and that's why your life was borin'," Trip shot back with a wince. He looked over the ledge they had taken refuge on and out into the morning sky. The land looked so harmless and pure, with greens and oranges that sparkled in a perfection that seemed almost unreal. It was hard to believe that at nighttime, that land was riddled with dangerous creatures and debilitating storms.

A small object appeared just over the horizon, and the two men glanced at each other in anticipation. It was the shuttlepod, coming to take them home.

**End!**


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